


Aletheia

by MemoryDragon



Category: Batman: The Animated Series, DCU, Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons)
Genre: Drama, F/M, Gen, Identity Porn, M/M, Mem fails at slash, Multi, No one is surprised, of a sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 19:36:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19235725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MemoryDragon/pseuds/MemoryDragon
Summary: There is a emptiness in Bruce's life that he can't explain.  Between an interview and a dance, maybe he's found people that can help fill it.





	Aletheia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [second_hand_heaven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/second_hand_heaven/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** I do not own the DC Animated Universe, nor do I make any claim to.  
>  **Warnings:** There is non-consensual mind-reading going on in this fic, along with some consensual mind-reading. The non-con bit leans towards some rape-like descriptions, so be mindful of your own comfort levels.  
>  **Thanks:** Many thanks to Nar, as always, for the beta and title help.  
>  **Notes:** A few things of note for this fic I'm posting on Trinity Sunday. First of all, this is a gift fic for the lovely and talented Nova. I'm glad you liked it anyway even if it kind of failed at the prompted Identity Porn. Second, I'm aware that DCAU White Martians were not called White Martians and were different, but it was just easier to go with the White Martians I'm more familiar with, especially since they were really only featured in the opening arc of JL. Third, while not tagged Clark/Diana because it's Bruce POV and identity porn, Clark and Diana absolutely love and admire each other as well as Bruce, it's just not the focus of this fic. Finally, I fail at any actual romance to the surprise of no one who knows me from my marvel fics. It only took me 175k-ish words forth of fic to get to a romantic relationship in Stony, so I'm Getting There. But this is Not That Fic.

Bruce curled his hands into fists as he tried to rein in his temper, but it was no easy feat. "Implementing this technology in the metro systems will make Gotham _safer_. What is there to discuss?"

"Now, Bruce," Regina said placatingly. "The funding for such a task would be enormous, not to mention you'd have to win over City Hall. We can't put that sort of strain on the stockholders, not without some reassurances. If they-"

Lucius winced as Bruce raised his voice and cut her off, but he couldn't spare a thought for that right now. "We're talking about _public safety_ ," he said, staring at all of the board members. "Twenty people _died_ last week because the current metro system is severely out of date. This could effect thousands of lives for the better! And you're concerned about stock dropping?"

"Bruce," Lucius murmured soothingly. "Why don't we talk about this later? We can draft up a formal plan and see-"

"We don't have _time_ for all of that! This needs to be done-"

" _Bruce_ ," Lucius said, this time more of a warning.

Bruce looked down, forcing his jaw to relax. Lucius was one of his oldest friends and he _knew_ he should listen, but-

"We'll table the discussion for now," Regina said. "Moving on to the next item on the agenda, let's take a look at the third quarter gains."

The meeting went on, and Bruce felt bile rising up. His board cared more about money than the people of Gotham. It was vile and infuriating, and he _hated_ sitting there with a fake smile as they talked about the latest merger details making them more money while people were still suffering.

Finally, the meeting ended. Lucius caught his eye before he could storm out, so he stayed behind as the others left. He bit the inside of his cheek when Lucius sighed, anger taking over. "Coming up with a formal plan? Lucius, that's just busywork while they find more ways to tear the proposal down!"

"As much as I hate to agree with them, Bruce, they have a point," Lucius said.

Betrayal punched him in the gut. He had trusted Lucius to be in his corner for this. "Lucius, the current metro isn't _safe_. Just last week the Joker murdered a whole train car full of people because the security is past its prime, and the whole system is falling apart! We can do _better._ We have to do better."

"And you know I agree with you," Lucius said, placing his hands on Bruce's shoulders. "But you've got to slow down on it to get the others on board. We'll start some social media campaigns, get the public opinion on our side, and convince City Hall the constituents will vote for it."

"While we're wasting time on that more people could die!"

"It's the best we can do," Lucius said sadly. "I'd give an arm and a leg to have it otherwise, but that's the truth of the matter. You know this is how businesses work, Bruce."

Bruce looked away, feeling more like a chastised child than he wanted to admit. He heard Lucius sigh again. "What's gotten into you about this anyway? Usually you leave this sort of thing to me."

Bruce pulled away, looking at Gotham's skyline from the window. Then he closed his eyes. "I just... It's not _enough_ , Lucius. I'm not doing enough. People are getting hurt, and I should be able to do something about that. And right now you're telling me I _can't_ when the technology is right there for us to use."

"You already do so much for this city," Lucius said. "More good than you know. Just let me handle this one, okay? We'll find a more palatable reason for the board, I promise you."

He looked down at his hands. A frustrating helplessness overcame him, because no matter what he did, he couldn't stop other people from losing their family like he had. Lucius said he was doing so much to help Gotham, but it had only gotten _worse_ since his parents died. Was there really nothing else he could do?

"Why don't you head home for the day," Lucius suggested. "I'll have the boys down in Media Relations send you their ideas by Wednesday."

Letting out a deep breath, Bruce trudged up a weak smile. "Sorry, Lucius. I shouldn't have snapped."

"Things will get better," Lucius promised. "Don't give up on Gotham now."

"You're right," Bruce said, shaking his head. "It's just... I feel like I should be doing _more_."

There was a sadness in Lucius's eyes that the man quickly hid. "You do a hell of a lot more than most. Don't be so hard on yourself."

Lucius left him after that, and Bruce went up to his office to pack up for the day. The main problem with going home early was that these past two weeks he'd been so _restless_. He'd upped his gym hours and cleaned most of the mansion (despite Alfred's protests), because the feeling that he should be _doing_ something wouldn't leave him.

He walked to his desk, looking through the picture frames. There was one of Dick graduating from high school and another of Tim trying to steal cookie dough from Alfred, along with a few other family photos. But he gravitated towards the one on the far left, picking it up and staring down at the smiling faces of his parents. Bruce swallowed back the feeling that he was disappointing them. It was a lot harder than it should have been.

"Mr. Wayne?" His secretary Ms. Vasquez, a modestly dressed woman with glasses that didn't hide the crow's feet at her eyes, stood in the open door. Behind her was a man in an ill-fitting suit and wide-rimmed glasses. He had a press pass around his neck and an old-fashioned notepad under his am. "Your five o'clock appointment with the _Daily Planet_ is here."

Great. _Reporters_. That was the last thing he wanted to deal with today. He set the photo down and brought up his best smile. "Of course. Come in, Mr...?"

"Kent," the reporter said, shaking his hand as Ms. Vasquez excused herself. "Clark Kent. Is this a bad time, Mr. Wayne?"

"Never," Bruce lied smoothly. "You're here about the latest Wayne Envision tablet, right? We have to give people reasons to upgrade after all."

Kent frowned, and Bruce noticed how _blue_ his eyes were. The glasses hid it well, but Bruce had never seen anyone with eyes like that before.

Then Kent took off his press pass and shoved it in his jacket pocket, followed by his pen and notepad. "Would you like to get a coffee with me, Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce blinked, thrown off script. "Coffee?" he asked, baffled. Had this reporter just blatantly asked him out?

"My treat," Kent said with a small smile. Then he seemed to realize what he had said and a faint blush crossed his face. "As a friend, I mean. There's a place not far from here that sells the best coffee in Gotham. We can reschedule the interview."

"...You know I'm a billionaire, right?" Bruce said, noting that Kent's suit was on this side of threadbare.

"Offer still stands," Kent said. "You look like you need a break, Bru- Mr. Wayne. Let's do the interview later."

This was crazy. Bruce had dated enough reporters to know going anywhere with one was generally a terrible idea. But something about the kindness in those blue eyes felt... comforting. He couldn't say why, but he trusted Kent.

This was a colossally stupid idea. But Bruce found himself saying, "Sure, why the hell not?" and pulling off his tie. "Lead the way, Mr. Kent."

"Call me Clark," the reporter said. Bruce could have sworn there was a look of wistful melancholy in his eyes, but it disappeared before he could be sure.

* * *

"-and then Lois jammed the copier so I could sneak into Mr. White's office and put the copy USB there without him knowing."

Bruce shook his head. "I can't believe you got the 'cloud not uploading' excuse to work."

Clark smiled slyly and pushed his glasses further up his nose. "Why, Mr. Wayne, I'm just a farm boy from Kansas. Computers don't like to work for me, that's all."

Bruce snorted, almost believing it in spite of himself. Clark's innocent act was _good_ , he'd give the man that much. "Is that why you carry around a notepad and pen?"

"Oh," Clark said, blushing slightly. "No. I just like the feel of it. Making notes on a tablet or phone just isn't the same. No offense to the Envision 8, of course."

"None taken," Bruce said, smiling as he sipped his hot chocolate. Clark suggested it over the coffee since Bruce had been having a strange relationship with caffeine of late keeping him up and giving him way more energy than he knew what to do with. It was good too, which was surprising. He felt he should have known this place existed, it being so close to Wayne Enterprises.

Clark had stayed away from all questions that interviewers usually asked. He talked about life at the _Daily Planet_ and office prank wars, while managing to give Bruce the opportunity to say as much or as little as he pleased, giving up the reins to Bruce to direct the conversion if he started to speak. It was a skill Bruce marveled at, and he could see why the man made a good reporter. He certainly knew how to get a person to open up and relax.

"How did you find this place?" Bruce asked, mulling over Clark's tactics.

"We used to come here," Clark said with a sigh.

"We?"

"Oh! Uh," Clark said, fumbling with his spoon set next to his latte. "I mean, me and my friend. I have a friend from Gotham. We're both really busy so I don't get to meet him as often as I like, but it's nice when I can make it down."

It sounded nice. Bruce... didn't have many friends, not really. There was Lucius, Alfred, and Commissioner Gordon, but they all tended to act more paternal to him, knowing him since he'd been younger. Roni and a few others from Gotham's high society were people he could talk to, but it felt like there was something in Bruce that kept him from really getting close to one of them. A part of him ached, knowing there was something _missing_ from his life but unable to figure out what.

"Are you meeting up with him while you're here for the interview?" Bruce asked, pushing down the ache as much as he could.

Sorrow flitted across Clark's face before he hid it with a wistful smile. "Not this time," he said, looking over the interior of the small café to avoid eye contact. "He's... out of town at the moment. Business he couldn't avoid."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Bruce said, uncertain of the mood now. It was clear this friend meant a lot to Clark.

"I'm glad _you're_ more relaxed at least," Clark said, leaning back in his chair.

Bruce winced, but allowed the deflection. "Was I that obvious?"

"I have a friend with similar tells," Clark said strangely. "I know reporters don't have the best reputations with this sort of thing, but I promise you, anything you say right now is strictly off the record. If you wanted to talk, that is."

Bruce considered the proposition. Alfred's solution to everything was tea and cookies, which had not really helped matters in this case. Dick was visiting, which was nice considering how strained their relationship had been in the past, but it wasn't quite to the point Bruce wanted to rock the boat. Tim was too young still, not that he wasn't a good listener, but all of them seemed to be tense these past two weeks and Bruce felt isolated from his family in a way he couldn't explain. Lucius would just tell Bruce what he'd already said, and the Commissioner had a crime wave on his hands so Bruce didn't want to bother him.

He looked Clark over, taking in the shabby suit and glasses again as he turned over the thought of taking this man as a confidant. It had been surprisingly pleasant speaking to him and despite the initial wave of misgivings and suspicion, he felt like Clark was someone he could trust. It rattled him slightly, because he knew he wasn't an easily trusting man and he'd only met Clark an hour ago, but not enough to back down from the assessment. "I think it's-"

The windows burst inward with a loud noise that nearly deafened Bruce as the ground shook, causing patrons to scream. Bruce's eyes widened. Earthquakes didn't happen in Gotham, so it had to be-

"A bomb," Clark said, looking over his shoulder, almost as if he could see through the wall. Bruce could barely hear him over the ringing of his ears, but he nodded. 

Bruce started moving, rushing to the door. A hand with remarkable strength pulled on his arm, grinding him to a halt. "Bruce, it's dangerous out there," Clark said.

"People are getting hurt. There's no time," he growled, his voice deepening reflexively.

"Rushing out when you're not trained and ill-equipped could just get someone hurt worse, not to mention yourself."

Bruce wanted to fight him, but Clark's grip was _strong_ and his words made a distressing amount of sense. Bruce's shoulders hunched.

Clark smiled reassuringly, moving his hand to Bruce's shoulder to give it a light squeeze. "Stay here and call the fire department. I've got some first aid training, so I'm going to see if there's anyone who's been hurt."

Clark was gone before Bruce could protest. He looked around, seeing more than a few people on their phones, already calling the emergency in.

Without anyone around to stop him, Bruce raced out of the coffee shop.

Clark was nowhere in sight when he got out, but the hotel across the street was burning as people ran from it - except for one woman who was crying out, moving towards it. "Josie! Josie, where are you?"

"Can I help you, ma'am?" he asked, jogging up to her.

"My daughter! She's not - oh, my God, she must have gone back to our room!" The woman rushed towards the hotel, and Bruce barely managed to pull her away as a car skidded to a halt in front of them.

"What room are you in?" he asked.

"414," she said. "I have to-"

"Stay here. I'll find her."

Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, Bruce dashed into the lobby as people and smoke poured out. Alfred always insisted he have one, and Bruce was grateful for it now. He covered his mouth, coughing as his eyes watered, but he forced them to focus and find the stairs. It was easy enough to find, thankfully, since people were running out from the stairwell.

He took the steps as fast as he could while trying to keep the smoke from his lungs and not run into the people going down. There were signs of fire everywhere, and he stopped to help a woman who had fallen, handing her off to an older gentleman to help the rest of the way down.

The fourth floor was a trek, but Bruce pushed on until he could make out the sign. He opened the emergency door, heat accosting him, and he flinched back before pushing himself further. "Josie?" he called out. "Your mother sent me. Are you here?"

Hearing nothing over the crackle of the fire, Bruce stumbled to the nearest door, sweat dripping down his sides. Had the bomb been set off on this floor? It couldn't have been if the blast had been that strong, but the fire here may have been started by something else. Gotham was, if nothing else, a magnet for trouble.

Finally, he got to room 414. He took a moment to gather himself before throwing himself at the door like they did in the movies.

It did nothing but hurt his shoulder. Looking around frantically, he knocked. "Josie? Your mother sent me to get you out. Open the door, please," he shouted, looking for one of those axes to be used in case of fire, but he couldn't see anything over the smoke. "Josie!"

He coughed, pulling out his credit card and praying there was no deadbolt as he shoved it where the lock should be. The door opened after a few shoves and he rushed in and he was thankful the hotel hadn't upgraded it's security in years. "Josie?"

Bruce could barely hear sobbing in the corner and he made for the sink, using the handkerchief to turn the metal handle. Then he shoved it under the water, thankful the pipes still worked. A quick glance around found him no other towels, and if he lived through this, he was going to take that up with the management. That done, he went back to looking for the child.

The girl was on the other side of the bed, pressed to the ground. "Josie?" he asked, kneeling down beside her. She nodded tearfully as she coughed. "You're a smart girl. I'm going to get you out of here, okay? Breathe through this."

She accepted the wet cloth and he picked her up, setting her on his hip as he tried to breathe through the smoke. It was harder without the handkerchief.

The flames were spreading rapidly through the hallway now, heat almost blistering his skin as he pushed the door open. They had to get out before-

He only had a second after hearing the noise to react, and it wasn't enough time to move out of the way. He curled around the girl protectively as the floor gave way from underneath him.

Bruce expected pain. He wasn't expecting being literally swept off his feet as they crashed through. "Batman!" the girl cried out.

Looking up at his savior, it was indeed the Dark Knight. Despite having lived in Gotham his whole life, Bruce had never actually _seen_ Gotham's nocturnal protector. Veronica had a few times, and he'd known the man had gotten Harvey to the help he needed, but up close Batman was startling.

Batman didn't say a word as he ran, carrying the two of them as if their weight was in feathers rather than pounds. He set Bruce down before pulling him close, then they were swinging through the air as the fire grew deafening.

Finally, Bruce felt cold, clean air. Batman took them straight to a waiting ambulance. "Smoke inhalation. Minor blisters," Batman said, quickly turning away, his grappling gun in hand.

"Wait!" Bruce said, grabbing for Batman before he could leave. He coughed as he tried to speak, shaking his head. "Her mother... is worried," he said, as a paramedic tried to keep him from standing.

Batman nodded before taking off.

Five minutes later he was showing Josie how not scary the oxygen mask was and holding her hand as they fitted it around her face. "We match," he said, his voice raspy as the paramedic admonished him not to speak.

The girl smiled weakly at him, but she had calmed down which Bruce counted as a plus.

"Josie!"

The girl's mother ran over to them, tears in her eyes. "Oh, my God, is she-"

"She's fine, ma'am," the paramedic said. "We'd like to keep her and your husband overnight at the hospital just to be sure there's no lasting damage."

"Husband?" the woman asked. "I'm married to my wife."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I assumed..." The paramedic looked over at Bruce, taking him in properly now that she wasn't checking for other injuries. His suit and face were covered in soot, and he knew he'd had better days. He just hoped the paparazzi wasn't around to snap photos.

"Are you... Holy shit, you're Bruce Wayne!" the paramedic said, nearly dropping the bandage she'd been holding.

This is why Bruce hated going to hospitals.

* * *

Alfred and Tim came to Gotham General. Bruce couldn't put his finger on it, but Alfred was almost pleased that Bruce was actually _in_ the hospital. He tried to remember if he'd over-worked himself with the flu recently to warrant the muttering he could barely hear over the sound of the oxygen.

Josie and her mother were in the same room, because Josie had taken a shine to him and Bruce managed to keep her calm while the doctors did their tests. Her mother apologized profusely for it, but Bruce didn't mind as long as Josie wasn't scared anymore.

"That was very heroic of you, Master Bruce," Alfred said upon hearing the story, but Bruce didn't think that was a compliment. "Next time you might leave that sort of thing to the professionals."

"Nah, thanks Bruce!" Tim said with a cheeky grin. "Alfred says I don't have to go to school tomorrow since we're here so late."

Bruce raised an eyebrow at Alfred, but the man merely shrugged. Alfred was sometimes worse than a grandparent when it came to spoiling his wards.

There was, however, a more pressing matter Bruce needed resolved. "Alfred, the reporter-"

"This is hardly the time to be thinking about _reporters_ , Master Bruce," Alfred said, a well-hidden anger in his voice.

"No, not... A Mr. Clark Kent. He went to help..."

"Ah," Alfred said, anger lost. "I'll make inquires, but I'm sure he's alright. Most people don't run into a burning building."

It was odd, how easily Alfred changed his mind on that. Bruce had expected to need to explain more, because Alfred had no lost love for reporters after how they'd hounded Bruce as a child.

Tim distracted him from that line of thought as he peered at the young girl and her mother, waving at them. "Hi! I'm Tim Drake," he said, smiling cheerfully. "I heard you saw Batman! What was he like?"

Josie didn't have as much smoke inhalation problems since she'd stayed on the ground and hadn't been running around like Bruce had. So she chatted amiably with Tim, and Bruce felt a sense of peace that had eluded him for the past two weeks. Maybe he hadn't been the one to save her in the end, but he was still _helping_.

* * *

Clark Kent was fine, if angry at Bruce for running into the fire like that. It relieved him to reschedule the interview, if just because Clark's genuine _worry_ over him had been nice, and Bruce found himself looking forward to it once he could talk without sounding like a chain smoker. Alfred, surprisingly enough, seemed to approve of Clark as well, which led to Bruce combing through Clark's articles to see how the man had managed that feat. His results were inconclusive, though Clark Kent himself seemed to be more of a mystery than he let on.

While waylaid by doctors insisting he take the week off, Bruce worked on the proposal for safer public transportation. It was mind-numbing work, but at least it abated the ever-present restlessness that always threatened to consume him.

Still, Bruce was glad for the charity event at the end of the week. Staying at the manor so much was driving him insane, and the mayor would be there as well. Perhaps he could start greasing the gears on his proposal early.

He was actually on time for the event, which shocked every gossip in town. Bruce wasn't certain why he was always so late, but he supposed work caught up with him too often.

Bruce kissed Roni on the cheek in greeting, looking around for his target, the mayor. "You're more beautiful every time I see you," he told her.

"But it's not me you're looking at," Roni laughed, punching him in the arm lightly. "Tell me, Bruce. What's it like being a hero?"

"I..." Bruce said, caught off guard. He blushed faintly. "Batman was the real hero. He saved us. I just made a mess of things."

"Don't be so modest," Roni said. "Besides, I know you, Bruce. You go all soft and gooey any time there's a child around. You'd do it again in a heartbeat."

"I don't..." He _did_ , as she mentioned, turn soft and gooey with children, but he had an image to upkeep.

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me," Roni said with a wink. "But I'm not saving you from your fanclub if you're going to deny it."

"Roni, wait-" Bruce said, a feeling of dread overcoming him.

"Have fun! Don't do anything I wouldn't do. Or any _one_ ," Roni said, toasting him before slipping into the crowd.

"Brucie!"

"There you are, Bruce!"

"Don't play coy with me, Brucie."

Bruce took a step back, but ran into the wall. Five women and two men crowded around him, each trying to get his attention. There was no escape and Roni was nowhere to be found. It was a betrayal of the highest order.

One of the men started to get a little too handsy, and Bruce forced a polite smile as he removed the hand from his ass. "I'm flattered, but-"

"Do you have any plans for tonight?" a red-headed woman purred.

"I can think of a few things we could do," the handsy man said.

All of the sudden a petite hand pushed its way through the crowd in front of Bruce. "Do you want to dance?"

"Yes, please," Bruce said, not even looking at the woman the hand belonged to. She pulled him from the throng of disappointed admirers and Bruce caught sight of long, black hair as she led him to the dance floor.

She fit easily into his arms, and Bruce was a little surprised she didn't take the lead. She wore a beautiful red gown that hugged her figure and a golden necklace with matching earrings. She was also utterly unfamiliar, which was odd considering he knew most of Gotham's high society. "Thank you, miss...?"

"Diana," she said with a charming smile. "And no need to thank me. I'm returning a favor."

He pulled her into a sweetheart hold, walking her forward a few paces before spinning her out. "Bruce," he replied just as simply. "What kind of favor?"

She smiled again, but this time there was a sorrow to it that didn't suit her. "You're good at dancing," she said, laughing as he dipped her slightly.

"So are you," Bruce replied, watching as she moved gracefully. He let his earlier question drop as she steered the conversation away.

Diana sighed wistfully. "I don't get much of a chance to dance, but I do love it. Hopefully, we can finish this one."

He let her move to an open position, and he found he missed her earlier proximity. "Are you used to being interrupted?"

"It's been known to happen," she said, twirling and stepping back into closed position.

"I haven't seen you in Gotham before," he said, hoping to get some answers from the enigmatic woman.

"I'm here to help a friend," Diana said, putting a hand on his chest and pushing away teasingly.

Spinning her in close to him, Bruce then pushed her out by her shoulder. Her arms were muscled and strong, much stronger than the usual cut of the Gotham elite. "Lucky friend. Will you be here long?"

"Depends on the friend," Diana said, looking at him thoughtfully. "I wouldn't mind staying longer."

"I can't say I'd mind it either," Bruce said. It wasn't just empty flattery either. She was intriguing and had an ageless quality about her that set her apart from anyone else he'd ever met. He wanted to get to know more about her. Plus, she was a good dancer, and Bruce didn't get much of a chance to actually dance a lot either.

He spun around, letting her hand slide down his arm as she gave a small kick. The song came to an end and he bowed to her. "Thank you for the dance."

"It was my pleasure," she replied. "Now, are you going back to your admirers or are you helplessly smitten enough to follow me out to the balcony for a quiet drink?"

"Do you even have to ask?" Bruce said, kissing her hand playfully. "I have eyes for no other."

She linked her arm around his, and it felt like an old friend returning after a long absence.

* * *

For the second time in recent memory, Bruce felt relaxed. Talking with Diana was delightful in ways Bruce hadn't known he needed. She challenged his views and was frank and outright - while still being mysterious and vague about herself. Despite that, he felt like he came to know her a little better for their talk.

It reminded him of speaking with Clark. Maybe the restless feeling was part loneliness, because Bruce started to wonder what it would be like to introduce them and talk together. He'd only just met the two of them, but the image of all three of them sitting in the manor's kitchen as Alfred made hot chocolate and Tim did his homework, just chatting... It felt warm. Like something he'd been missing, a part of him that needed to be filled.

"You look far away," Diana said, taking a sip of her wine.

"Closer than you think," Bruce said quietly. He wanted... "Would you like to-"

The sound of gunfire sent chills down his spine, and he had to force himself not to tense up as people started to scream inside. He started to move, but her hand was on his arm before he could rush in - a surprisingly strong grip that kept him in place. "I have to go in and help!" Bruce said, turning back to Diana.

"I know your history, Bruce. But the best thing for you to do right now is to let me handle it."

"What are you-"

Diana sighed, then tore a slit up the side of her red dress like it was paper. Then she pulled out a glowing rope from her purse and went inside. Bruce followed after her and Diana immediately flew into action. Literally _flew_ , tackling the leader of the group. She used the rope to toss one of the thugs into the others and the fight began in earnest.

"It's Wonder Woman!"

"Wonder Woman's in Gotham?"

"Does that mean the rumors she and Batman are-"

Diana was Wonder Woman? How had he not recognized her? It wasn't like she kept a secret identity, and Bruce had personally financed the Justice League Watch Tower because he believed in the good heroes could do. He should be able to recognize one of its leaders on sight.

But he hadn't. And now she was fighting a dozen of Gotham's criminal element like it was just another Friday night for her, and it probably was. Something in his gut twisted as she threw a punch, just as graceful as she had been dancing. She was a princess from an ageless civilization, and he had been about to ask if she wanted to be friends with him.

He was no hero. He was just a normal human, possibly with above average intelligence despite what the tabloids made of him, but still, human. Someone probably very boring and uninteresting compared to her line of work. He'd been drawn to her because she could do what he couldn't, actually _help_ when problems happened, rather than just throw money at it after the fact.

Most of the party goers had run at this point, but Bruce remained, half hidden behind an upturned table and watching her as she knocked out the last thug. Batman arrived shortly after, looking over her work.

"I had it handled," Diana said as he started cuffing the villains.

"I'm aware," Batman said dryly. "These aren't the ones we're tracking."

"I was hoping..." Diana said, then she shook her head. Sorrow was visible in her eyes before she closed them. "Any fresh leads?"

Batman grunted, which Diana seemed to understand as an answer, even if Bruce didn't.

Diana looked around, smiling as she spotted Bruce. "Are you hurt?" she asked.

"I'm fine," Bruce said, not needing to ask the same to her. The thugs hadn't managed to even touch her. "I'm sorry. I didn't recognize you, Wonder Woman."

"It's all right," Diana said, though she smiled regretfully. "You're not-"

"Princess," Batman said sharply. "J'onn has intel for us."

"I should go," Diana said with a small sigh. "It was nice speaking with you tonight, Bruce."

"Thank you for the dance," he said, his voice cracking slightly.

She nodded and left, Batman trailing behind her. Bruce sat on the floor as sirens started to come closer, closing his eyes. Loneliness came back tenfold and he had to focus on breathing. He wasn't like them, no matter how much he wanted to be.

* * *

Next Monday Bruce was attempting to put thoughts of Diana from his mind while at a meeting in Metropolis. It wasn't strictly necessary for him to be there, but he wanted... Clark was a normal person, and a kind one too. Perhaps he could take Clark out for dinner this time and they could talk some more.

He didn't know why, because he had Alfred and Tim, even Dick when he visited, but Bruce felt there was some distance between them recently. It left him feeling adrift and isolated as he tried to push past the feeling of being left out.

Diana and Clark though, he felt a connection to that he couldn't quite put into words. Diana was a superhero and likely too busy to deal with someone like Bruce, but Clark might be able to help him figure out what was going wrong with him. He's offered to listen after all, and Bruce could really use a friend.

Bolstered by the decision, Bruce ended the meeting. Most of the R&D department seemed relieved he'd kept it short, and Bruce didn't really blame them from wanting to be free of their CEO.

He walked to the Daily Planet, hoping the exercise would help with the restless energy. Metropolis was so different from Gotham. Cleaner and newer, without the years of neglect and pain wearing her down. It was nice, even beautiful in its own way, but a part of him yearned for the old streets and broken souls of Gotham. Everyone here wore hope on their sleeves, taking for granted how _hard_ it could be to hold on to that last shred of light.

Gotham showed her flaws to anyone who cared to look, but there was inspiration and beauty hidden in her darkness. Bruce was willing to bet Metropolis's underbelly wasn't as pure as the city liked to proclaim. In a way, Gotham felt more honest.

It was good timing when he got to the Daily Planet. Clark was walking down the steps and loosening his tie. Bruce was about to call out to him when Clark froze, then looked to the right. The next moment, he walked off in that direction, seemingly in a hurry.

Was something wrong? Bruce followed after him, not sure what he could do if there was trouble. Clark ducked into a...

Bruce had thought Metropolis was the City of Tomorrow. He was pretty sure most of the public telephone booths had been taken out of Gotham a decade ago. But here was one in the middle of Metropolis, and Clark just went in and closed the door.

Bruce walked up to the phone booth, not wanting to interrupt Clark's call. But as soon as he got there, the door flew open and a strong breeze... came from inside the booth?

He looked in and saw no one was there. "Clark?" he asked, looking around. Clark was nowhere to be seen.

That was _very_ odd. Bruce looked over the phone booth, but it seemed ordinary enough. There was nothing to suggest a trap door or other smoke and mirrors type of tricks.

Bruce pulled out his phone, checking the _Daily Planet_ 's website to see if Clark's number was listed. Maybe he had been seeing things and that hadn't been Clark after all. The site had a big "Breaking News!" sign on the top, so he checked that first. A video popped up and the news reporter was talking about how Superman had just arrived at the scene of a giant robot attack.

Frowning, Bruce minimized the video to pull up a picture of Superman. He looked... remarkably familiar. It couldn't be, could it? A pair of glasses couldn't hide eyes that blue, but...

Clark Kent was Superman. Now that he could compare the picture to the mental image of Clark in his head, Bruce felt a degree of certainty he didn't understand. Clark had been so _kind_ and funny and...

He and Diana must already know each other, he realized. It was Bruce who was the odd one out, yet again.

Bruce went back to his hotel room, wishing he were back in Gotham. Except that wouldn't solve either the loneliness or the feeling that he wasn't doing enough. Clark and Diana constantly put their lives on the line to save people, making a _real_ difference in the world. Maybe that was why Bruce had felt so drawn to them. They were actually fighting for what they believed in.

He looked down at his hands, covered in calluses from his time at the gym. Batman was supposed to be a normal human, wasn't he? When he was younger, Bruce had trained in martial arts. He was probably more than a little rusty by this point, but if he trained more, then maybe he could finally-

' _I'm truly sorry, my friend, but this is necessary._ '

"Who's there?" Bruce asked, looking around. There was no one-

Bruce screamed as a sharp pain in his head overwhelmed him. Arms wrapped around him as he collapsed, picking him up gently as the pain caused him to black out.

* * *

Bruce woke to the feeling of a hand running through his hair. He had a half-formed memory of that same hand when he was much younger, but it had been a long time since he'd last felt it. "Alfred?" he asked groggily, trying to open his eyes. His head pounded, and he heard Alfred pull back. He missed Alfred's hand in his hair.

"This is the second time you've given me a start recently, Master Bruce," Alfred said. "I'd trust you not to make a habit of it, but I'd be fooling myself. You get into trouble even when there's none to be had."

What had happened? He'd found out Clark was Superman and then-

Sharp, needling pain hit his temples and he groaned. "Easy there, lad," Alfred said. "You collapsed after the meeting. You've been working too hard, according to the doctor."

"Then why does it feel like I'm still not doing enough?" Bruce asked as the pain receded to a dull ache.

Alfred sighed, wistful and melancholy. "I'd hoped that one day you would settle down, you know," he said conversationally. "That you could give up on this nonsense and just be happy. That I had gone wrong somewhere, and if I'd raised you properly, you'd have been able to find a normal life."

Bruce focused his eyes despite the pain so that he could see him. "I can't... there are too many people who are unhappy, Alfred. I'm not doing enough to stop that."

Alfred looked pained now, and he started to reach out before pulling back. "You do _more_ than enough, Bruce. You always have. But I'm starting to see how the life I wanted for you wouldn't have made you happy at all."

"Alfred?"

"Just the ramblings of an old man. Pay it no mind, Master Bruce," Alfred said. "Things will go back to normal before you know it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have-"

Bruce caught Alfred's hand as the man started to move away, the motion jarring his head terribly. "Alfred..."

Alfred smiled, though his eyes held such sorrow. Why was everyone around him so sad recently? He hated the feeling that maybe he was the cause of it. "Would you like me to stay?" Alfred asked.

Bruce looked down, which was apparently enough of a yes for Alfred to sit back down. He stubbornly held on to Alfred's hand. His guardian wasn't a demonstrative man by nature, but he never refused when Bruce needed a more physical show of affection.

"Rest for now, Master Bruce. I promise you, this will all be over soon."

It was an empty promise. Alfred was prone to giving them when he didn't know what to do. ' _The pain will get better._ ' But like when he was a child, he let himself believe Alfred could be right for just a little while. He drifted to sleep, still clutching Alfred's hand.

* * *

It took a day for the headache to recede and he stayed in his hotel in Metropolis rather than attempt the trip back. He hated being away from Gotham too long. Something about it bothered him more than he could say, and for all her flaws, Bruce _missed_ Gotham.

Alfred shooed him out of the manor when they finally got back, saying the fresh air would do him good. While Bruce debated how fresh the air near Gotham could really be, Alfred gently shoved him out the door.

Bruce managed to snag a book on the way out, so he only grumbled a little about the British and their insistence on knowing what's best. There was a tree he used to play in when he was younger, so he made his way to that, pausing only to gauge if the branches would still hold his weight before climbing up.

He stayed up there for a good two hours, resting on one of the higher branches. Despite how restless he'd been feeling lately, it was rare that he had time to sit and read a good book. Agatha Christie was a guilty pleasure of his. He'd read them all before, but there was still a thrill to the words that satisfied a deep craving for mysteries that ended neatly. His father had laughed when Bruce said he wanted to be like Tommy and Tuppence when he grew up, saying he'd have to first find himself a girlfriend, and at that age, Bruce hadn't wanted to do anything with girls or boys other than play detective.

He sat there after he finished, wondering what his parents would think of their son. He couldn't help but feel like he was failing them. He'd made a promise by their graves to make Gotham a place where people would never lose their family like he had, but Gotham had only grown _worse_. He wasn't like Diana and Clark. There was just so much he _couldn't_ do.

Finally climbing down from his haven, Bruce made his way back to the manor with a heavy heart. He put the book away in the library, then got back to work on the proposal for the metro.

It was close to six when Alfred knocked on the study door. Bruce welcomed the break as the going was tedious.

"Supper is ready, Mr. Wayne," Alfred said.

Bruce blinked. The last time he'd heard Alfred use that name, it had been to address his father. He'd never, in the course of the years Bruce had known him, called _him_ Mr. Wayne. "Are you alright, Alfred?" he asked.

"Of course, sir," Alfred replied, leaving a confused Bruce to follow him.

The dinner table was only set for one, and Bruce paused in the doorway. "Where's Tim?" he asked, knowing Dick kept strange hours lately and might be out. But Tim should be back from school by now.

"He has a test tomorrow and joined his friends for a study group," Alfred said, pulling out a chair for Bruce.

That didn't sound very much like Tim. And Alfred usually took supper with them when they were alone. Something wasn't right. But who could Bruce go to? He could try finding Clark's number from the _Planet_ again, but it was late and he likely wouldn't be in the office. The Commissioner _might_ believe him, but he didn't have time to try to convince someone he wasn't crazy, and Dick and Tim might be in danger. If he could get to the light on top of the police station, however, Batman might know what to do. Maybe he could convince the Commissioner that he'd just wanted to see the light and 'accidentally' turned it on.

That decided, Bruce pulled out his phone to text Tim and Dick. "You know, there was something important I forgot at the office," Bruce said, sending a quick text telling them not to come to the manor. "I'll go get it and be-"

"It's a shame you had to do this the hard way, Mr. Wayne," Alfred... no, the impostor said. Bruce's stomach dropped from under him as he wondered where the _real_ Alfred was.

"Who are you?" Bruce asked, dialing Jim Gordon anyway. He couldn't look down to see if the Commissioner answered, but he prayed the Commissioner wouldn't just hang up.

The impostor smiled, then lunged at Bruce. His phone clattered to the floor. Bruce side stepped him, giving him an upper cut after he ducked under a kick. He got two good punches in before the impostor pushed him against the table with a cloth over Bruce's mouth.

He could get out of this hold, but he hadn't counted on the impostor being so _strong_. His head started to feel fuzzy as he tried to push his assailant off, and his arms were heavy. Bruce tried to hold his breath to keep from breathing more in, but he couldn't...

"There, there, Mr. Wayne. I just want some information."

The cloth was removed from his nose and mouth and he was unceremoniously thrown to the floor, his body refusing to move. Pain shot through his arm. His hands were tied behind his back before he was pulled up and held, his feet barely touching the floor.

"Or should I say, _Batman_ ," the impostor said with a chuckle. "I'll admit I'm disappointed in how easy this all was."

Batman? Bruce couldn't move his mouth to speak. He couldn't even cry out as he was shoved against the wall. He had no idea how the impostor wanted to get information out of him when he was effectively paralyzed.

Impostor Alfred started to change, turning into a white monster with red eyes and sharp angles. Bruce couldn't even close his eyes as the monster gripped his head. "Now, Batman, this will hurt, but I need those contingency plans of yours to defeat the League, so hold still please."

Pain, intense and overwhelming, flooded through him. His mind - his _life_ \- was being cracked open on display. Every secret, every painful memory, everything _private_ was sought by the monster. Bruce couldn't scream, but he could feel tears rolling down his cheeks unbidden.

It was a relief when the monster threw him to the floor again, and he barely even felt the sharp, bruising pain of it. "Where..." the monster said, growling. "But you're Batman! You must be! Where are those plans?!"

"In here."

"Batman!?"

Bruce couldn't move to see, but he recognized the voice easily enough. If the real Batman was here, then...

The sounds of a fight started up, but he was too exhausted to try to follow it. There were other voices, hard and angry, but he couldn't focus anymore.

He drifted for a while, barely feeling gentle hands untying him and helping him to sit up. He _did_ feel the brush across his mind, and the fear returned. Not again! He wasn't Batman, so why-

' _Peace, my friend. I am attempting to lessen your pain_ ,' a voice said in his head. It soothed his thoughts, and Bruce relaxed. For some reason, he trusted it.

' _We did not arrive in time to stop him_ ,' the voice said. ' _And for that no amends can be made. But you will be alright._ '

"Breathe in," a darker voice said as something pressed over his mouth and nose. Batman's voice. "It's an antidote for the poison the White Martian gave you."

Bruce hated feeling helpless, unable to do anything as the fight went on around him. He couldn't even protest the oxygen mask Batman had placed on his face. But slowly, his body started to respond to him. He blinked, relishing in the feeling as movement started to come back to the rest of his body.

The fight died down. He managed to move his head to see, Batman helping him as the voice in his mind continued to soothe the pain. The dining room was a mess, but thankfully still standing, if a little scorched.

Superman and Wonder Woman stood over the monster - White Martian - looking at it as though their souls could barely contain the rage pulsing through their bodies. It was as if they both had partaken in the rage of Achilles, a dark vengeance in their eyes that startled Bruce. Why were the heroes so angry?

Batman and Robin were both at his side. Robin held his hand and smiled to reassure him, though the child looked fairly scared himself. "You're gonna be okay, Bruce," the youth said, sounding like he was telling himself that more than Bruce.

Another person in a mask entered the room, glancing around. Was that... Nightwing? Bruce was pretty sure that was the name of the vigilante from Bludhaven. Nightwing winced as he surveyed the room, then moved to where the three of them were sitting. "Agent A is secured. He's got a concussion, but he should be fine with some rest," Nightwing said.

Bruce didn't know who Agent A was. But he finally felt able to move his arms enough to try and push at the oxygen mask on his face, even if his hands felt like they were made of lead. "My family - Are they-"

"They're fine, Mr. Wayne," Batman said. "Your boys were able to call us for help."

Batman was trying to put the mask back on him, but Bruce shook him off. "Alfred-"

"We found him in the kitchen," Nightwing said, kneeling down in front of Bruce and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Your family is okay. They're mostly worried about _you_ though, so keep breathing in the antidote."

This time, Bruce let them put the breather back on him.

"Is he..."

Bruce looked up to see Wonder Woman staring at him, her eyes wet. "Were we too late?"

"He's been hurt," Batman said, standing with a swift motion that made his cape flare behind him. Nightwing took his place next to Bruce, claiming his other hand. "But there shouldn't be any lasting damage. The memory lock held."

"Thank God," Superman said. "We should get him up to the Watch Tower to be sure."

Bruce tried to see what had happened to the White Martian, but the voice inside his head started speaking again. ' _Sleep for now. Your mind needs rest after what it went through. Your family is safe. We'll take care of the rest._ '

Bruce felt his eyes drop closed as the voices faded. The last thing he felt before drifting off to sleep was Nightwing and Robin gripping his hands tighter.

* * *

He woke up to hushed voices chatting amicably. Voices he recognized.

"Hey! He's awake!"

Bruce winced at the yell, some remnant of the headache returning as Dick admonished Tim for speaking so loudly. Relief crashed into Bruce like a tsunami. It wasn't like he doubted the League, but having his family here soothed his doubts. They were safe.

But someone was missing. "Alfred-"

"Right here, Master Bruce," a voice from Dick's tablet said. Dick turned the tablet around so he could see Alfred in his bed at the manor. "I'm too old to be zapping back and forth into space with a concussion. Oh, don't fret, boy. It's not the worst I've had."

"But it was bad enough Dr. Thompkins said you had to stay in bed," Tim said, biting his lip. He looked torn, wanting to be with both Bruce and Alfred at the same time. Bruce could relate. It didn't feel right, having to speak to Alfred through a tablet when the man was hurt.

"And she's taking great care with me," Alfred said, sounding all the more put-out for it. "She won't even let me make tea."

Alfred was going to be okay. The boys were unharmed. Bruce could relax at last.

He looked around, taking in the strange area they were in. This wasn't the manor, or even a hospital he recognized. The technology looked advanced even for Wayne Industries, which Bruce made sure was on the cutting edge of medical science in memory of his father. Where was this white, pristine place?

"I believe the two of you have some explaining to do," Alfred said. "And I can hear Dr. Thompkins coming to tell me I should be resting now."

"Get some rest, Alfred," Bruce said. "We can take care of the manor for a while."

"Now there's a terrifying thought," Alfred said. "I'm sure I'll have enough nightmares to deal with already."

Bruce raised an eyebrow, but let it pass. Alfred was hurt after all.

They said their goodbyes and Bruce carefully swung his legs over the side of the bed. Aside from the minor headache, he felt much better. "This is the Watch Tower, isn't it?"

Tim bit his lip, looking to Dick. Alfred had mentioned _explaining_. Though Bruce was fairly sure they were keeping him here under observation after what... happened, there seemed to be something more going on.

Dick swallowed, nervously running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, this is..."

"Can we just tell him?" Tim said.

"Tell me what? Has something happened?"

"I guess the direct approach can't hurt... You're Batman, Bruce," Dick said, smiling nervously.

That... was not something Bruce had expected to hear. "Dick, I know we haven't always gotten along recently, but there's no reason to-"

"You _are_ Batman," Tim interrupted.

Bruce frowned. "I'm not. He was one of the League members that saved me."

Shaking his head, Dick sighed. "That was J'onn - Martian Manhunter. He's a shape-shifter, so it was easy to throw the White Martian off the case."

"That's not possible," Bruce said calmly, wondering where they were both getting this notion from.

"I know shape-shifting is weird, but-"

"No, Martians are susceptible to fire and Batman saved me from a burning building. That wouldn't be possible if it were Martian Manhunter."

"That was Superman, actually. He's..." Tim winced. "...really good at mimicking voices. It's creepy, but you said Superman showing up in Gotham wouldn't go over well with throwing the White Martian off your trail, so he agreed to come in as Batman if he was needed."

"I'm kind of disappointed, actually," Dick said. "I never got to save you when I had the cowl on, but they did. All I got to do was some lousy mob-crime and stake-outs."

" _Dick_ ," Bruce said, his voice going lower than normal in his anger. "I know you're with the police now, but you can't work a case in Gotham! It's too dangerous to-"

"There we go," Dick muttered, getting angry as well. "You don't get to-"

"Can we maybe stay focused on explaining?" Tim cut in, looking at both of them anxiously.

"We will talk about this later," Bruce said.

"You were the one who-" Dick started, then closed his eyes, reigning in his temper. "We _will_ talk about this later, and I want an apology."

"He doesn't remember, Dick," Tim said.

"Yeah, yeah." Dick sighed again, deflating slightly. "There was a White Martian targeting you. He was tracking you because of your connections to the Watch Tower, and he was close to finding out that you're... Anyway, he was hiding too well for us to track down, so you said you'd use yourself as bait."

"Why is a Martian after me?" Bruce asked, bewildered. He'd funded the Watch Tower, sure, but he was only mildly involved with its construction and any cursory surveillance should prove that.

"Because you are Batman," Dick repeated. "And you've got hundreds of contingency plans on how to deal with the League members if they went rogue. Martians are telepathic, and once he realized what he'd stumbled onto, he tried attacking Batman outright, but the League was there to back you up. He escaped though, and humans don't exactly have defenses for mind reading."

"But I don't have contingency plans," Bruce said. "I'm not... I'm just a guy with more money than sense."

"Then how did you know Martians are weak to fire?" Tim asked. "That's not common knowledge."

How had he known that? Bruce wracked his brain, but he couldn't find a reason. It was baffling and left him off-kilter.

"J'onn has stopped actively suppressing everything," Dick explained. "It won't unlock your memories, but you're apparently _extremely_ stubborn and little bits will slip through. He's resting now because you tired him out trying to keep all your thoughts away from that sort of thing."

"You have a wound on your shoulder, right?" Tim said, before he could reply to that.

"I got it from polo," Bruce replied automatically.

"It's a gunshot wound, Bruce," Dick said gently. "You should be able to tell the difference if you think about it."

It... really did look like a gunshot wound, now that he thought about it. He didn't particularly care to dwell on the wound overly much, because it wasn't a nice thing to look at. He mostly avoided it when he showered or looked in the mirror. But the memory of it was sharp in his mind, and as he mentally tallied it, he realized Dick was _right_.

His hand went up to his shoulder, tracing the scar absently through his shirt. All of this was impossible. He wasn't a hero. He couldn't even convince his own company to work for something other than their own profit.

"I've never seen someone more miserable getting a full night's sleep," Dick said, huffing lightly. "You were driving Alfred and Lucius nuts with your extra energy."

Bruce looked at his hands. He hadn't been doing enough, that's why. He was putting in so many extra hours at the gym because he was restless. Despite what he said about having more money than sense, his _mind_ had also been unchallenged as of late, and it was slowly taking its toll. His hands were calloused and rough, even with the amount of work he put into making them not seem that way. And why did he bother doing that anyway, if he weren't hiding something?

Was it so unbelievable that Bruce Wayne could be Batman?

"Come on, kid," Dick said suddenly. "Let's get out of here for a bit."

"But he still doesn't believe us!"

"Give him a chance to think things through. You know how he is."

Bruce was grateful to his eldest for understanding, though he held Tim tightly when the youngest hugged him and it was a struggle to let him go. They let him know he had free rein over the Watch Tower before leaving him to his quiet.

He got out of bed, finding a black turtleneck sweater and some jeans in his size and changing into them. Then he hesitantly walked out of the room. Dick had said he could wander about, but he still didn't feel right about it. He wandered at random, curiosity dulled by the weight of everything.

He found himself in front of a glass panel, the Earth in full view. Arrested by the sight, Bruce placed a hand on the glass. The world was so much bigger than just Gotham, but he still felt unnerved leaving her. He was one man. What could he do for the whole _world_? Dealing with Gotham was something manageable, but Batman saved the world countless times, hadn't he? And that was supposed to be him?

At the same time, the view was familiar and soothing in ways that Bruce couldn't quite put into words. Two people came up beside him, but he didn't turn to look at them. Instead, he spoke, leaning his forehead against the glass. "It's strange. After all this time, the memories of my parents are fuzzy. They're vague and unclear, no matter how I've tried to cling to them. Yet despite the fact this is my first time seeing it, I feel like this view is one I could never forget. I can see it if I close my eyes, no matter where I am."

"The Earth changes slowly," Clark said from behind him. "We change much faster."

"That's why we protect it," Diana said. "Because it's too beautiful to let it fall to ruin."

Bruce turned to look at them. They must have seen something in his eyes, because Diana reached out to brush his bangs from his eyes and Clark-as-Superman simply said "Oh, _Bruce_."

He forced himself to take a deep breath as they both waited for him to speak. They knew him as well as his family did, if they knew he sometimes needed the silence to collect his thoughts. Two superheroes he had always admired were patient enough to wait him out, and that, more than anything, convinced him.

Plain old Bruce Wayne would never rate the way they were looking at him right now.

"I am Batman, aren't I?" he asked, knowing the answer in his bones.

"Well, the butts do match," Clark quipped, then winced as Diana nudged him in the ribs.

" _Kent_ ," he said warningly. Even without his memories, Bruce was pretty sure he hated that meme.

"Oh, come on! You can't - Wait, how did you figure out who I am?" Clark asked, his expression extremely put-upon as Bruce realized what he'd done.

Diana looked like the cat who got the canary as Clark pouted. "You owe me a week's worth of ice cream!" she said to him, then grinned at Bruce. "I knew you'd figure it out. It's folly to bet against you."

He could, of course, admit that finding out had been an accident, but Bruce was vain enough to revel just a little in their assumption that he'd been that clever, and he saw no reason to correct it. He smirked instead.

The smirk faltered as he saw the way Clark and Diana were looking at him. Something had changed. "Is something wrong?"

"You usually are right," Clark said, swallowing hard as he looked away. "You were right this time too. We both said it wasn't necessary for you to forget everything, but we weren't there in time to stop the White Martian from hurting you."

"And I accused you of not trusting us," Diana said, closing her eyes. "I'm sorry, Bruce. We didn't live up to that trust."

Bruce's mouth went dry at the reminder of how open and vulnerable he'd been in the White Martian's clutches. Unable to move or fight back as the monster invaded his mind. He wanted to tell them it wasn't their fault, that it was never a matter of _trust_ or lack thereof, he was sure of it, but no words came out of his mouth.

He jumped as Clark touched his shoulder, startled by the worry in their eyes. "Bruce," Diana said softly. "You're shaking."

Bruce couldn't let them see him like this, not if they blamed themselves for what happened. "I have to go," he said, ignoring them as they called out after him. He kept going, not realizing he was helplessly lost until he stopped long enough to actually take in his surroundings. He was in some kind of hallway, but the white walls and pristine floors offered him no hint on how to get back to his room.

Looking down at his hand, he saw it was still trembling. Frustration welled up inside him. He was Batman, wasn't he? He should be better at handling things.

He looked up as he heard footsteps, hiding his hands behind his back. The Flash and Hawkgirl came around the corner. They both looked surprised to see him, but then the Flash broke into a smile. Bruce blinked, and suddenly the Flash was right there next to him.

That was downright unnerving.

"You're back!" Flash said happily. "I'm glad you're back. Really. It's not the same gloom and doom without you, and I've got some cases I could really use your help on and-"

"Slow down, Flash," Hawkgirl said, coming up to him at a thankfully more sedated pace. "I don't think he remembers yet."

"Oh, sorry!" Flash said, looking sheepish. "I didn't realize that you're... Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Bruce said. Whatever he must look like to prompt the question, his voice was thankfully still even.

The Flash and Hawkgirl traded glances, clearly not taking him for his word.

"Uh-huh," Hawkgirl said, her eyes narrowing. "What are you doing down here by the engines anyway?"

"I got lost," Bruce admitted, deciding that wasn't too much of a blow to his pride.

"Flash, why don't you go find Wonder Woman and Superman," Hawkgirl said, more perceptive than Bruce would have thought. Or maybe he was just that obvious. "I'll take Bruce back to his rooms."

"On it," Flash said, zipping away before Bruce could protest.

Bruce looked down, his shoulders hunching. "I don't blame them," he said quietly, too late and to the wrong person.

Hawkgirl smiled sadly, one of her wings coming up behind him as she placed a hand on his back, leading him down a different corridor from the one he'd come down. "I think they know that," she said.

Bruce didn't say that knowing that seemed to make Diana and Clark feel worse. He was quiet as Hawkgirl took him through the Watch Tower, listening and nodding as she gave an impromptu tour. They passed other members of the League, some Bruce recognized, some not. The Justice League had long since expanded its numbers from the original seven, but it was different _seeing_ how many people wanted to help the world.

Any time someone looked curiously at him, Hawkgirl carefully shielded him from view with her wing. It was a kindness Bruce was grateful for, especially when he realized she wasn't expecting him to make any actual comments to her tour.

He felt numb by the time she got him back to his room, but he had stopped shaking. Hawkgirl - Shayera? He didn't know where that name had come from, but he trusted his gut on it. Shayera gave him a hug before she left, surprising him.

"I'll see if J'onn is up to setting your memories right," she promised as she let go. "We all missed you, Bruce. Especially Wonder Woman and Superman," the last she said with a wink that made Bruce's face heat up. "You're one lucky Bat, you know that? Now get some rest."

She left him like that, unsure of what to say. His head felt fuzzy, like it was difficult to feel much of anything, so he sat down in a chair that was placed by the wall, oversized and cushy, just the way he liked it. He curled up around himself, letting the feeling pass through him.

He must have dozed off, because Dick and Tim had come back in at some point, chatting quietly. He was glad Dick was getting along with Tim. Bruce had never had a brother or sister growing up, and with how he and Dick had parted he'd been... worried. After the initial distance Dick had kept up though, Dick had taken to being a big brother like a fish to water.

"We brought hot chocolate!" Tim said, passing a mug over to Bruce once he noticed he was awake.

"It's not Alfred's, but it'll do in a pinch," Dick said with a grin.

Bruce accepted the hot chocolate, blowing on it before taking a sip. It was hot, so they hadn't been here long, and it was satisfactory enough for Bruce. The boys went back to chatting and he listened in, curious. When he realized they were talking about a case - and a rather grisly one at that - Bruce tensed. "You both..."

"You're Batman, remember?" Tim said. "Which makes me Robin."

"Nightwing, when I'm not moonlighting as you," Dick said more defensively.

Bruce took that in, shock blunting his temper. Fighting crime was _dangerous_ and both of them...

"You couldn't stop us, Bruce," Dick said, relenting. "There's a few things I could use your input on though, since you're awake."

It was an olive branch, and Bruce hesitantly nodded. He couldn't quite bring himself to fathom his two sons being in that much danger, but he could _help_ if that was what kept them safe.

As Dick started outlining the case facts, Bruce realized Dick had most of it already sorted out. But it was the most included Bruce felt with his own family in weeks, so he didn't call Dick on it. He was surprised to find that he _could_ have input on such a conversation. It felt strange, like he knew things that he shouldn't, and worse was the reverse, when he didn't know something he felt like he should. But putting his mind to _use_ was a relief in itself, and Bruce was glad for something that was more of a challenge than writing a proposal for the metro.

It was almost an hour before they heard a knock at the door. The Martian Manhunter entered, looking tired. "I hope I'm not interrupting?" he asked.

"No," Dick said, looking torn. "Should we leave?"

They all looked at Bruce, who hesitated a moment before nodding. Dick and Tim trailed out of the room, Tim looking back at him before the door closed, and Bruce tried to smile reassuringly at him. Then it was just him alone with the Martian Manhunter. He fought down his nervousness unsuccessfully.

"You may call me J'onn," he said, still keeping his distance from Bruce's chair. "I apologize again for having to be so forceful in keeping your memories locked away. I never wanted to cause you pain."

Bruce shook his head. "I... asked you to do it, I think."

J'onn bowed his head at that. "You did. But I did not like hurting you."

"I'm sorry," Bruce said, wondering if it had all been worth it.

"You had many reservations about me being in your head, yet still you insisted. And now..."

Bruce swallowed, looking down at his hands again. "You can break the seal on my memories?" he asked, proud his voice only shook a little.

J'onn still winced. "I can. But after what the White Martian did to you, it will hurt."

To say nothing of the fact that Bruce had to press his hands to his lap to stop them from visibly shaking at the thought of letting another Martian in his head. "Then we should start-"

"You can break the seal yourself, more naturally."

Bruce raised an eyebrow, and J'onn continued, "You've already started. It was a struggle to keep you from breaking it yourself for so long. You are a very stubborn man, Bruce Wayne."

That startled a chuckle out of Bruce, and J'onn smiled, but Bruce quickly sobered. "I assume that would take longer? How much time?"

"A month or two, though you'll get it back in pieces rather than all at once."

A month or two of not doing enough to help Gotham. Of Dick wearing the cowl, doing the job Bruce was supposed to. Of not truly remembering Diana, Clark, and the rest of the League.

"Do it now," Bruce said, bracing himself against what was about to happen.

J'onn took a hesitant step forward. Bruce's skin started to crawl. He kept eye-contact, maintaining it even when he felt his body tense. J'onn paused as he finally got close enough, and Bruce gave him a curt nod.

He bit down the panic as J'onn's hand rested on his temple, closing his eyes and focusing on meditation techniques that he didn't know how he'd learned. At the first brush against his mind, he tried to push back, but he clamped down on the fight or flight instinct.

J'onn waited on the edge of his consciousness until Bruce got a grip on himself. ' _Are you certain?_ ' J'onn asked, his mental voice deep and calming.

"Do it," Bruce said aloud.

Pain ripped through his head. He couldn't tell how long it lasted, everything but the pain receding from his thoughts. Then finally, it was over, and Bruce collapsed against J'onn.

Memories that had been locked away were returned, filling the hole that had continuously grown deeper over the past month. It settled in his chest, the feeling of being _whole_ such a relief that he nearly passed out.

He wasn't Bruce Wayne anymore. He was Batman.

' _Thank you_ ,' he thought to J'onn before the Martian pulled away mentally. He felt a hand gently running through his hair, then he was picked up, his head resting on J'onn's chest.

"I was in your head a long time," J'onn said softly, as he laid Bruce on the bed. "If you tell Superman and Wonder Woman how you feel, it would make them happy."

Bruce made a non-committal noise, and J'onn chuckled. "Sleep well, my friend."

* * *

Going back to Gotham was a relief in more ways than one. Dick had thrown his arms around Bruce when he apologized for snapping at him in a lower register rather than his society tone, saying, "Oh, thank God. I mean, if you _need_ me to do it again, that's okay, but I really prefer you being you and me being me."

Tim was also glad to have him back, and Bruce got an earful of all the things Dick wouldn't let him do, never mind that Bruce himself would have said the same thing 95% of the time.

Alfred was still abed, and Bruce knocked lightly on the door. After a brief reply from Alfred, Bruce slipped into the room, ducking his head slightly when he thought back to Alfred's words when he'd been out with the headache.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, sitting down in a chair near the bed.

"Terribly bored, sir. I'm beginning to understand why you were so restless," Alfred replied.

"I guess neither of us are very good at vacations," Bruce said wryly. Alfred hummed in agreement as Bruce looked away. "Alfred..."

"You could never disappoint me, my boy," Alfred said with a confidence Bruce didn't share. "And I _am_ proud of your accomplishments. Just give an old man some time to accept that he doesn't always know what's best for you."

"Of course, Alfred," Bruce said, reaching for his hand. "And you usually are right."

"I'll remind you of that next time you argue with me," Alfred said.

Bruce smiled, a rare, fragile thing that he rarely used. As long as Alfred was okay.

* * *

It was a few days before he made it back to the Watch Tower, having to catch up on all he'd missed in Gotham. The cowl felt _right_ when he put it on, like a lost part of him that he never wanted to part with, and the feeling lingered for days after. He hadn't necessarily been unhappy without the Bat, but he hadn't been happy either, and the difference was noticeable.

Still, he did have to go to the Watch Tower again, and soon, so he made the trip up and checked in. Green Lantern greeted him as he walked into the break room, a genuine smile on his face. "I heard vacation wasn't your style," John said, clapping Bruce on the back. "Good to see you again."

"It was... an experience," Bruce said, knowing such a life would never really suit him. "I heard you had some plant trouble."

John groaned. "Don't remind me. My thumb is not the same color as my ring, trust me on that."

Bruce hummed, going back to the reports of League activity. Some of the newer recruits were on the young side, and he signed them up for extra training. He didn't like the younger heroes going out ill-prepared.

John cleared his throat pointedly. Bruce looked up and raised an eyebrow. "Wonder Woman and Superman are down in the training rooms."

Bruce didn't reply, waiting for John to make his point. He ignored his stomach twisting at their names.

"You could always drop in on them," John said.

"Very subtle," Bruce replied, looking back at the reports.

"They like it when you're around," John said, but he left Bruce alone after that, leaving the room.

Bruce waited five minutes after John left before putting the reports away and heading to the training rooms.

John was waiting outside. He grinned, holding his hands up in surrender and leaving before Bruce could contemplate vengeance, stifling a laugh.

Diana and Clark were sparring with no holds back. Bruce watched the two of them go at it, leaning against the wall after creeping in quietly. Diana was lithe and moved as gracefully as she danced, hundreds of years of training coming into play. Clark, on the other hand, was a powerhouse and fought like a tank. He and Diana were usually on par in terms of strength, but Clark's other abilities could keep her on her toes despite her experience, and it made the match interesting. He didn't often get a chance to just _watch_ the two of them, and it was a nice view.

Finally, Diana caught Clark in the lasso and pulled it tight, throwing him into the wall. Bruce had to hastily jump aside in order not to get hit as well.

"Batman!" Diana said, smiling as she loosened the lasso and let Clark free.

"How are you feeling?" Clark asked.

Bruce tilted his head, considering his answer. He didn't think he'd let anyone, not even J'onn, back in his head for a very long time, and he'd already scheduled a meeting with a League therapist over the situation. He still felt like he wasn't doing enough to help Gotham, but as Batman he had learned the necessity of pacing himself. The ache never went away, but his night job helped soothe it. The proposal for the new metro was also coming along nicely, with Lucius's input helping it immensely, and he and Tim were keeping a close watch on things while the company got on board.

He was whole again. But did that really make him worthy of Diana and Clark's friendship? Diana had pursued him and Clark had a dogged persistence since they started the League, but after everything, Bruce wasn't sure he was enough. He'd never joined the League to make _friends_ , but it seemed like he'd found some along the way.

"Better," Bruce decided, not quite a lie or a full answer. He handed them water, which they both gratefully accepted.

They chatted for a while, catching up as Bruce thought about J'onn's advice. They both kept sneaking him guilty looks when they thought he wasn't looking, and their cheer felt just a bit forced. Eventually, they begged off for a shower.

"It's good having you back, Bruce," Clark said.

"We missed you," Diana said warmly.

"Only a little," Clark joked.

"Yes, and who engineered an interview just to speak with him?"

As Clark flushed, Bruce heard J'onn's words in his mind. ' _It would make them happy._ '

"I... missed both of you too," Bruce said, before he could talk himself out of it.

Clark and Diana stared at him in shock for a moment, and Bruce briefly wondered if J'onn had been wrong. Then they both broke into wide smiles and suddenly he had two pairs of strong arms holding him tightly.

Bruce stiffened, unsure of how to react to the hug, but they held on. Slowly he relaxed, allowing himself to lean into them slightly. He really had missed this, Diana and Clark in particular. It just wasn't the same, without them in his life.

This, however, this _closeness_ , was new and a little unnerving. There was one thing he was sure of, though, despite all the odds.

He could get used to this.

~Fin~

**Author's Note:**

> Mem: And there you have it. It's not quite proper Identity Porn, but I tried. It just got derailed by mystery. Happy Trinity Sunday and I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Quote of the fic:
> 
> "The worst loneliness is not to be comfortable with yourself."  
> -Mark Twain


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